


You Were the Pearl

by Chucksrus84



Category: Byzantium (2012)
Genre: Darvell (Byzantium 2012), F/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2387384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chucksrus84/pseuds/Chucksrus84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I met her, she was little more than a child, digging carpal on the beach; a rare beauty hidden under an oversized bonnet. But she was a woman now, a mother who spent decades living for her child, and whatever she possessed all those years ago, she still had it to a greater degree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were the Pearl

We were at the Marriot hotel, looking down on the Thames when she whispered, "why didn't you fight for me?" We'd talked about strategy, gone over ways to distract the Brotherhood from Eleanor's scent (Eleanor is Clara's daughter, by the by) and even spent time feeding on a few unsavory characters but when it came to our past, we...I...avoided it like the plague. So, I pretended not to hear her and after five minutes, I thought it worked but then she asked again and I knew there was no escaping the past. I allowed her hand to skim across my fingers, as my eyes drifted from hers to the storm that raged outside and began reliving moments as if each memory was a Kodak picture. As if the words were tumbling out of a foreign narrator, I heard myself admit things I never admitted to anyone.

"I was afraid. If I had spoken up then, Savella and Werner would've grown suspicious. They would've assumed I'd given you the map." 

"And didn't you," Clara asked, her beautiful eyes narrowing as she stared at my reflection in the darkened window. "Isn't that what you intended to do, Darvell? To give it to me, once you recognized who I was."

I sat next to her in silence, visibly unnerved by her proximity. For six months, I watched her go through anxiety attacks, after separating from her daughter. Watched her endure grief, fear and suspicion, all from a relative distance but tonight, I could not drag myself away from her. Every fiber of my being screamed for her touch, for the slightest taste of warmth radiating from her skin and before I could discern what I intended to do, I found myself kissing the hollow of her collarbone. When I became aware of what I was doing, I scrambled to my feet and stood shaken, barely able to catch my breath. I turned around and caught her upturned expression from the corner of my eye and quickly looked away. There was a question in those eyes, one I wasn't ready to answer and yet, I knew if I didn't answer it now, I'd never have the courage to do so. So, with eyes closed against the thrashing wind that whipped and lashed at the panes outside, I gave her my secret and prayed to never to tell it again.

“Been searching for Ruthven for weeks when I was informed of his new playground," I heard myself whisper. "I had no idea you'd be there. I didn't even recognize you when we met for the second time, but then I did and between my introduction to Ruthven as the "soucouyant" and the telling of my story in the parlor, my plans had changed." I was visibly shaken at this point. I was a great deal older than her, more than two hundred years and counting, and I've done a great many things I'm not proud of. But it was what I failed to do, that shamed me the most and freeing her from that past was my only redemption.

But then I heard the bedsprings groan as I watched her stand in the window's reflection, and felt the vibrations of her breath reverberate through every nerve in my body. I sensed her in the air. She was full of nervous energy, full of anticipation...or was it, hope. I couldn't decide which at that moment but I definitely heard an almost inaudible voice, ask in hushed tones, "what changed it?"

Memories of the thirteen year old girl, Clara had once been, flashed before my eyes, and that image of her was as clear as the Thames outstretched below. For two centuries I'd hidden my true self from Savella and Werner, fearing a swift and permanent punishment should they learn or even suspect of my betrayal. But they were both gone and I was now on the run with Clara. I didn't have to lie anymore. I didn't have to pretend. So I told her my secret and prayed she'd throw it to the wind. 

"It was you. You changed...my plan. I did intend to give Ruthven the map. It was why I tracked him to his new haunt, but when I recognized you, an idea started to bloom. You'd grown and learned so much by then. I saw something in you I recognized and...unconsciously, wanted you to have it. I wanted you to steal it. Granted, when you finally did, I was less than thrilled given the Brotherhood's staunch rules but regardless, I was rather...inspired by it. Thrilled, one could even say. I just couldn't let that be known to Savella and Werner. Brethens who decide to turn women or suspected of turning women, are immediately beheaded. I needed to act the part. I didn't defend you, because I was afraid of being killed myself. So, I protected you and Ella, the best I could...from a distance." 

I felt like I'd climbed Mt. Everest in 55 seconds by the time I finished. I was breathing hard. I tried to control my rattled nerves and failed miserably. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this honest, let alone with anyone I've known for more than two hundred years, and it was damn near unsettling. I would've crawled out of my skin, if I could at that moment but then I felt her hand stroke the nape of my neck, and all thoughts vanished. I made a flimsy attempt at backing away but Clara would have none of that. Her arms, slowly, slid around my waist and held me against her soft, supple body and my mind went to mush. I turned into jelly as her head rested on my shoulder and almost screamed in ecstasy as she traced shudder-inducing kisses along the tip of my earlobe. I wanted more, dear God, I prayed for more and with inhuman speed, I pulled her bodily, to face me. I took her hands into my own and kissed the inside of each palm, then bent my head to touch my mouth to hers, toying with her until her lips parted; and then our tongues met and the world exploded in a sea of fire. She gripped handfuls of my hair and deepened the kiss as I held her firmly against my hardened body and we stayed that way for long moments at a time. Oh, I could've spent an eternity with her, like that but then I remembered what she'd said to me on the beach and I knew if I didn't ask now, I'd never ask again. So with great regret, I dragged myself away from her, held her against the shuttering window and sought the answer I only half suspected. 

“Why did you keep the pearl?”

She looked away and pressed her trembling hands to her cheek. Her eyes flickered from my face before resting disturbingly on my mouth, and at that moment, I was aware of every small detail about her. From the strand of hair sweeping across her face to the streak of tears that burned along her cheek. When I met her, she was little more than a child, digging carpal on the beach; a rare beauty hidden under an oversized bonnet. But she was a woman now, a mother who spent decades living for her child, and whatever she possessed all those years ago, she still possessed it to a greater degree. Feeling hopelessly out of my depth and glancing apprehensively around, as if expecting an intruder to burst in, I stepped forward and took Clara's hand into my own. Kneeling on one bended knee, I held her hand, searching for the answer in those midnight dark eyes, as the wind whipped and thrashed against the night sky and waited for her to reveal what she longed kept inside.

Clara, for all her bravado, studied me intently, her eyes dropping down from my hair to my bended knees, with insolent appraisal. And then, finally, she admitted what I'd long suspected. "Once," she said, "I would’ve paid in gold just to have you stand before me. More to have you kneel at my feet. But that had been the past and years spent running from the Brotherhood had taught me to yearn for survival...my daughter's survival...far so then the touch of one I could not have." At that, she turned her eyes away and for a second, they were as unreadable as the depthless sea.

Aware of her questioning gaze, I picked up a strand of her night-dark hair and urged her to continue but what I saw in her eyes stilled my hand. There was a hunger there, a yearning that mirrored my own. I knew how I felt about Clara. I wanted her, have wanted her for so long...but I wasn't worthy. I didn't deserve to looked upon with so much desire. So I averted my eyes and urged her to continue. 

"I clung to that pearl as he tore and ripped at me. Ruthven,” she said bitterly, “the fucking cunt that he was.” Shaking the memory loose and recollecting her thoughts, she continued...

“I felt the smooth round edges press against the palm of my hands as he held me down and took what I had not given; and when it got bad and the weight of him was all that kept me from leaping out of a window, I saw your face, Darvell. Saw you on the beach, smiling and giving me the pearl. That’s where I went when Ma’dam’s gentlemen were introduced to my bed. I went to you! I clung to you, every night, until all I felt was the sea breeze against my skin and the pearl in my hand. With you there, I wasn't a harlot, eternally doomed to my fate. I was a lady with a pearl, given to me by a kindly gentlemen. And when you came back…I know you didn’t recognize me, I know that now, but when you came back, it was like an answered prayer. By then, I’d given the most precious thing I owned to my daughter, and learned to grasp the image of you in my mind but Darvell, I loved you…looked up to you, idealized you. You were the pearl, the purest image I owned. And when it came time to defend me against the brotherhood, you broke my heart. Darvell, you broke it!"

I wasn't aware I was crying, as I sat beneath her pleading eyes. Nor was I aware of my arms pulling her into an embrace. I took her hand and raised it to my lips, as I used the other to wipe away the tear-streaked masquara on her face and then, every so gently, whispered in her ear, the words she needed to hear, "You are not the sum of the abuse that was inflicted upon you. You're not a whore. You are a lady! You are a survivor, a mother, a person capable of deep empathy and a vampire capable of creating and teaching her own creations to adapt in any era. You are perfect just the way you are, and I am proud to have known you...proud to love you."


End file.
